


Scars

by Li_La_Lou



Category: Batfamily - Fandom, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Completed, Gen, Implied Crush, Insecurity, M/M, My First Fanfic, Other, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 04:57:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Li_La_Lou/pseuds/Li_La_Lou
Summary: Scars are nothing uncommon in Tim's buisness. Everyone has them but most people seem to be better at dealing with it. To Tim, his scars are nothing but ugly reminders of times he made mistakes. Since everybody else seem to see something glorious in their own scars he decided it would be the best to talk to people and change his mindset.





	1. Prologue

Tim had never actually wasted two thoughts about his outer appearance. He has never been arrogant nor insecure. Some people have called him attractive before but he has also been called ugly. Even though, the ridiculous fact that people referred to him as 'sexy' when he wasn't around – Steph told him once she overheard such a conversation – never failed to make him chuckle, it never really mattered to him. He felt comfortable in his body and that's the only thing that mattered, well, he  _ used to  _ feel comfortable. Right now, there was barely anything in the world he hated more than his very own skin. 

 

The only light filling the room was the dusky moonlight, shining through the window. Where it touched Tim's pale body, his skin would look like it was made out of pure ivory. Smooth and soft. But ruined by something that drew Tim's attention onto it. The dim light made the scars glimmer like liquid silver. Quicksilver rather than actual silver, really. The sight of the sallow colour was not remotely precious or beautiful to Tim. To him, it was nothing but toxic. Poisoned thoughts consumed his mind, digging deep into his brain, bringing back his most painful memories. 

Tim bit his lip, watching his own fingers run over the latest scar. It still hurt a little when he touched it and his hand flinched back when he reached the centre of it. The pain barely reached Tim's head, his body reacted on his own. Mentally, Tim was living through yesterday's events again. From the moment the Titans and himself left the headquarter, until the very moment when he got the scar which reached from his hipbone to his bellybutton. 

Cassie had told him not to go by himself. She knew that trying to handle five guys at once would be to much for the already injured Red Robin. Of course she was right and of course he went alone anyway. 

 

With a soft sigh he turned from the mirror and grabbed his sweater to pull it over his body, too young to have lived through so many horrible experiences. He wiped his eyes, partly because of exhaustion and growing tiredness, partly because of invisible tears that didn't dare to actually escape from his eyes. He wouldn't allow himself to show even more weakness. 

He was certain he wouldn't be able to fight back the darkness that was filling his head once he sat down on the bed. But since it was better than the burning memories of failure, still sitting in the cave they dug into his mind and waiting to attack him again, he would just let himself fall into this tender darkness. For now. 


	2. Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim had a nightmare and decided it might help talking to Dick to handle his sorrows.

Tim's dreams hadn't shown any mercy on him. He's gotten used to nightmares – actually the only times the boy didn't suffer from bad dreams was when he was allowed to sleep next to Dick, Bruce or Kon – but these ones seemed different. They weren't bloodstained, not loud. No one yelled at him as usual, no one was lying by his feet, covered in dirt and blood. What made this dream so insufferable was it's cruelly realistic feeling. 

 

In this dream, that didn't feel like a dream at all, Tim stood in an empty hallway. He took a second or two to recognized where exactly he was but it didn't take him too long to realize he was inside the Gotham Central Hospital, not very far away from his High School and one of the stops on his nocturnal patrol. He usually just dropped by to check if everyone was alright, most nights he didn't even enter the building, but he's been here as a visitor quite often as well. Some injuries were just too much to take care of at home – even with a skilled helping hand like Alfred's. 

Usually the hallway was filled with busy people and the silence surrounding Tim now seemed twice as oppressive because of that. The only sound that reached his ear except his steps on the floor and his very own breath were some quiet voices, too far away to understand what they were saying. The boy's feet moved by themselves towards the voices. The closer he got the more familiar they sounded, the faster he walked. By the time he recognized it was Dick talking, he was running. 

After what seemed like forever he finally reached a door. Bright light and the soothing sound of Dick talking was coming from within. A  relieved smile on his lips, Tim reached for the door frame but stopped right there, when he saw his older brother's face. Dick's cheeks had salty trails of dried tears all over them, his eyes still a little red and filled with more concern and deep misery than Tim had every seen before. The younger boy couldn't bring himself to enter the room nor to make a single sound. Unnoticed he stood there, listening to the talk between his so broken-looking brother and the doctor he was facing. 

 

“A-And if Tim will be fine, then I guess Bruce is-”, Dick said, the light of hope in his eyes, which never failed to cheer Tim up, was dim but it was not gone yet. Not until the doctor shook his eyes. “I'm a so incredibly sorry.”, the doctor sighed, his voice seemed collected but dark, “Mister Wayne is not well off. Apart from multiple broken bones and a serious injury on his head, his lugs are slowly filling with more and more blood. Our best expert for cases like these is treating him but... I swear to you, Mister Grayson, we're giving our best, we're not letting go off  Mister Wayne. But time is working against us and ...” “What are you trying to tell me?!”, Dick snapped and immediately regretted it “I'm sorry... I know you're just trying to make it easy for me but please - don't sugar-coat anything.”

Tim could see that Dick was fighting back tears. Tim could see the doctor was fighting with himself, thinking of a way to put it. Tim could see his hands starting to shake. 

_ “I'm afraid he's not going to make it.”  _

The doctor's words hit Tim like a fist in the stomach. A silent gasp escaped his lips, he stumbled back, leaned against the wall for support. He stared at his feet, his eyes widened in horror while tears fell out of them, hitting the floor and bursting apart like crashing glass. 

“B-But-”, Dick was trying hard not to let his voice shake too much – without real success. “But Bruce survived worse than this! I-I mean...! Why? W-What-”  He didn't even seem to notice the tears rolling over his cheers again, finding new trails, replacing the old ones. “It looks like he's thrown himself over his son to protect him from being wounded any further. The boy, in fact, is more or less alright.” Dick nodded but didn't look at the doctor. He was facing the window but didn't really looked out of it. His eyes were just as empty as Tim felt. “He … died in order to protect his son. I think Bruce would like that.”, Tim's older brother muttered to himself. It was loud enough for the doctor and Tim to hear, it just wasn't really addressed to them. “Please, Mister Grayson. Mister Wayne hasn't died yet. He appears to be quite a fighter and sometimes miracles  _ do  _ happen! Don't give up hope just yet.” The man in the lab coat gave a gentle smile which Dick tried to return – again, without too much success. 

 

Tim hadn't been mentally present during the last few sentences. His breath was rapid and flat, black spots were dancing in front of his eyes, he felt dizzy, felt like he was falling, spinning. Everything around him was black. Dead. Bruce couldn't die. Not because of him. This couldn't be.  **It couldn't be!**

Tim's legs didn't carry him any long but he  didn't feel any pain when he fell down to the floor. His knees were shaking, his hands trembling, his vision blurry. 

“Would you like to see your brother?” The doctor's voice threw Tim back into the situation. “I'm sure he'd love to see you. He needs you now.” This words gave him back the tiniest trace of hope. “No... I don't think that's the best idea.” Dick's reply broke him. 

  
  


Tim woke up shaking like crazy. His hands were sweaty and he could feel the tears lingering on his cheeks. It took him solid ten minutes to calm down. He reminded himself over and over again, that it was just a dream, that Bruce was alright, that Dick didn't hate him. 

When his pulse was back at a justifiable frequency he got up and wandered to the bathroom, still not quite back at himself. He locked the door, stripped down and got into the shower, primary to wash off the sweat, secondary to wash off the fear. 

 

After he got himself ready for the day and walked downstairs he was more than relieved to hear Bruce's voice. He was arguing with Damian – about something pointless for sure – but it didn't matter. While the left half of Tim's brain had been certain Bruce was alright all morning long, the right half was happy to have it proofed.

He smiled when he entered the kitchen, kissed Bruce's cheek as he passed by and hugged Dick, who was sitting at the table, drinking his coffee and reading today's newspaper, from behind. Even Damian's dismissive comments made Tim feel safe and warm today. He needed this everyday situations, needed to feel his beloveds – and Damian – around him. 

He had breakfast with his family, listened to Bruce talking about the ongoings at Wayne Enterprise and to Dick complaining about Jason's weird eating habits. He laughed with them, shared his opinions on the topics and even teased Damian a little like every other morning but the impressions of his dream, the pictures and sounds, didn't really leave his head. 

 

When they were all done eating, Bruce had to leave for work and Damian to walk Titus, Tim gently touched Dick's arm. He had been thinking about talking to his brother for quite some time but he really had to pluck up all his courage to actually ask. “Dick, um... there's something I would like to talk about. You've got a little time?”, he smiled but it didn't reach his eye. Dick was instantly worried about his younger brother and took him by the hand. “Yeah, sure! Wanna take a walk in the garden and talk?” Tim nodded and the boys grabbed their coats before leaving the house.

The garden around Wayne Manor was big enough to wander around for hours. When Tim was done explaining his concern, how he felt about his scars, what they meant to him and how he couldn't take those thoughts any more, they hadn't even crossed half of it. Dick took a deep breath, straightening his thoughts after all the new information and sighed. “I've been there as well, Tim. You're not alone with these worries. We've all put ourselves in a troublesome place. Whenever something goes right, it's just what everyone expects from us anyway. But as soon as something goes wrong we feel responsible for everyone who gets hurt, like it's all our fault. But it's not, Baby-bird, really. I mean, just imagine what Gotham would be like without you. All the people who'd have lost their homes or even their lives if Red Robin hadn't been there.”

Tim bit his bottom lip, rocked his head from side to side. His hand travelled over his lower body to feel the latest scar under his shirt “I don't know... I-I mean, you're right I guess...”, he murmured, rubbing the fabric above the itching scar. “Hey, I don't know if it helps but for me every scar stands for a time when I prevented something worse.”

Tim nodded, letting this thought sink in a little before nodding again. “That's a nice idea. Thanks, Dick.”, he gave a faint but honest smile. “Hey, that's what big brothers are for, right?”, Dick grinned and softly bopped against Tim's shoulder before pulling him into a hug. “You'll figure this out, Baby-bird. And you're not alone with this.”

  
  
  


A few hours passed by like nothing. Tim distracted himself with work and training but eventually he found himself in his room, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Dick's words wafted through his head while he mentally went over all his scars. He frowned when he got to the wide one on his left leg. 

He's gotten this one about a year ago. Back then, some psychopath threatened with a bomb that was said to be somewhere in Gotham. He demanded three billion dollars so that he wouldn't blow up the whole city. 

Tim and the other Titans had been at the place of interest of course. It has been almost too easy for Tim to locate the position of the bomb and its owner. 

The team and himself sneaked into the abandoned factory in the east of Gotham. They'd prepared themselves, sat like birds on some rusty steel girder, waited for the perfect moment to make their move. 

Tim had to change his position in order to not be seen, had to get behind him. He had tripped. 

His foot has lost grip on the steel, he slipped off it, ripped the skin of his leg open on the rough rust. At least he was able to get a hold on the girder with his hands. The man they were observing stared at the boy, hanging there completely uncovered and unprotected, and pulled a gun with his right hand. Tim had only had this one chance, so he swung from the girder and jumped right to the man's face, kicking him down. By that he'd risked the whole mission and everyone in Gotham, because the guy was holding something in the left hand that looked a lot like the remote to the bomb. 

Since his team-members were forced to reacted as well they were able to take him down but when Tim turned to disarm the bomb...

Well, it turned out it had been a mock-up all along. A fake. 

Tim had risked his own and his friends life and got injured over a fake. 

It was not like he regretted going there and he would always take a threat like this serious, no matter what. But that very time he got in trouble over nothing. 

He tried not to think about it, tried very hard. But now that he'd found a case that just wouldn't fit into the 'new way of seeing his scars' he tried to talk onto himself, all of the other reasons to think like that disappeared from his head like fog in the wind. 

 

Time groaned and rolled over, pressing his face into his pillow, quietly muttering swears into the soft fabric. Why was his head like this? Why did his mind seem like it wouldn't stop searching until it found something to make himself lose it again? Oh, right. The poisonous thoughts that had dug themselves into his brain... They had attacked again. 

Tim groaned again as he sat up. When he wasn't able to solve this problem now, maybe it would be easier after gaining some distance. 

 

So he texted Jason. 


	3. Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes avoiding a problem can feel just as healing as actually solving it. Especially when solving it seems so impossible.  
> To Tim, Jason has always been the best choice to hang out with if he didn't want to worry for some time.

“What's up, Timbo?”

Even though the older male would fight with him about it whenever Tim actually voiced it but Jason's playful smile had the magically ability to turn a horrible day into a good one. That was the main reason why Tim had asked him out of all his friends and family if he would like to meet up for lunch. Even though he got quite a dirty mouth and a rather weird sense of humour, Jason was incredibly easy to talk to. He'd always been the first to understand Tim's sorrows, had always been the first to take him aside when anything didn't feel right. Ever since they overcame their deadly rivalry Tim had always enjoyed Jason's presence even when – or probably especially when – they didn't talk about any trouble that was going on. 

“Nothing really”, Tim smiled as he hugged his brother. “Ya hit me up for nothing? Timbo, I'm a busy man, I've got so much stuff to take care of, criminals to kill, making people fall in love with me because of my handsome face, and  _ you  _ make me screw my whole time-management for nothing. Tsk tsk tsk”, he complained and shook his head but Tim knew he was joking “I'm sorry”, he chuckled “You should be! For that you'll pay ma burger, alright?”, this time he wasn't completely joking but it was fine since Tim knew Jay was always short on money. 

 

They picked up some burgers and fries at a restaurant close to a park and sat down in the grass under a tree. It was rather warm for this time of the year, the sun had won the fight against the clouds today and celebrated it's victory with some extra heat. Jay took of his jacket before leaning against the tree and unwrapping one of the burgers. “Ha~, that's the way I like my afternoons. Sun, free food, my Baby-bird around”, he grinned and tousled Tim's hair before taking a bite of his burger.

Tim smiled to himself and leaned against his brother's shoulder, nibbling on his own burger. “You know, we should've gotten some chocolate-milkshake as well. To dip the fries...”, Jason said between two bites. “I won't stop you from getting yourself some but I surely won't leave this place in the next few hours”, he replied with a grin and Jason shook his head. “It's important enough to whine about but not important enough to actually get up...”, he explained. Tim giggled. “Jay, you weren't really whi-” 

“Maaan, I wish I had something sweet to dip my fries in. Fries are better with milkshake. This is only half as satisfying. And no one's here to bring me one!”, he sobbed ridiculously loud. “Jay, Jay, I got it! Life sucks without chocolate fries!”, Tim laughed out and Jason shrugged “Nah. Life sucks. End of story. But it's endurable if you surround yourself with the right people.” He smiled and winked and Tim but suddenly something in his eyes darkened and and preferred to look back at his burger again. “Eh, Timbo... you know, uh... Dick texted me as well yesterday...”, he started, obviously feeling a little uncomfortable in the situation. “Are you two dating again?”, Tim asked with a cheerful glimmer in his eyes. “Dude! I-It's not about that!” Jason ran a hand through his hair and sighed wearily “I hate being the one to bring up these kinds of topics and if you don't wanna talk about it that's fine but... Dick is worried about you. He told me about the scar-thingy and asked if I could talk to you. So, you wanna talk...?”

 

Tim's smile faded and he lowered his head. “U-um...” 

“Listen, Timbo-”, Jason tried but Tim cut him off with a shake of his head “No, it's fine. I  _ do _ wanna get this out of my system but I don't really know how. Dick probably told about our talk-” Jason nodded “and I really tried to adopt his way of seeing things but...” 

“but Dickie's way is not your way. As someone who tried his best to be just like him for quite a while I think I know quite well what you mean... I can only talk for myself but to me Dick always seemed like the person who had their life all under control. I've never really been able to talk to the big bat about ma problems so I always talked to Alfred or Dick – preferably Dick.” 

“Why not Alfred? You two get along quite well”, Tim inquired and got a shrug as answer. “I love Alfred but he took care of it like a granddad. Which is great in countless situations, like when I argued with Bruce over something I did wrong. But anything relating to the whole 'dressing-up-and-playing-hero-thing' -”, he shrugged again and stuffed some fries into his mouth, “It has always been easier to talk to Dick about that. Like, he had been in my place before so I thought he'd know how I feel. But I grew to learn that even though we do have our similarities – I ain't Dick and Dick isn't me. We can't solve our problems just like he does.”

Tim leaned against Jason's arm again and cuddled his jacket, not for warmth but for the comforting sensation of the outworn leather. “I guess...”, he muttered, watching one of the last bumblebees flying dizzy rounds above a yellow flower. “Why can't it be as easy for me as for him...?”, Tim sighed and instantly apologised inside of his head. He knew Dick's life hadn't been easy at all and that Tim probably had to face less suffering. Fortunately Jason knew what he was trying to say and didn't judge him the slightest for putting it an odd way. “I know. Dick suffers from other insecurities but he usually doesn't let the people he cares about see that. He's trying to protect you.” “I know...”, Tim whispered against Jason's jacket. “But who am I supposed to talk to then? Bruce is worried about my sanity anyway, Damian hates me, I don't want to concern any of the Titans...” He groaned out and slammed his forehead against Jay's shoulder. “Jason. Help me...”

The older male sighed and awkwardly wiggled his arm around Tim to pull him a little closer and hold him. “I know, I look like an adult but you remember that's just my outer appearance, right?”, he sighed and gave a troubled laugh while gently stroking Tim's hair. “But for you I'll try.”

“It feels like every scar is a reminder of a mistake. A wrong step, a second that I didn't focus, being a little bit too confident.” Tim pointed to different scars on his Arms and his shoulder while he talked but Jason gently stopped him by taking his hand and leading it over the same three scares. “A. New. Way.”, he corrected with an uncommonly soft expression in his eyes.

 

Tim looked up at him and tilted his head, searching for an explanation in his brother's face. “Now, I can only do the exact same thing as Dick did and tell you what the scars mean to me but who knows, maybe my definition is more fitting for you”, he smiled. Tim nodded, signing him to go ahead. 

“Look, sometimes things go wrong. But that's alright because things can only go wrong if you tried. And every time we go out there we try something new, we go to our edge, cross our borders. And because of that, we never really fail. We get up and try. We find new ways...”

Tim gave it a thought, looking back at the bumblebee while his head rested on Jason's shoulder. “I don't know. I mean, I kind of handle things my own way, yes, but – Do I really find a new one? I barely try something new, really. I basically stick to what is known to work out fine. The way I fight is just a mixture of yours, Dick's and Bruce's fighting style. Last month, when Garfield complimented one of my moves I literally replied 'Thanks, I stole it from my brother!” Without noticing he talked faster and faster. “Woh Woh, Timbo. Not to quote Mr. Freeze here but – chill!”

Tim stared at him, rage and terror still flickering in his eyes as Jason cupped his cheeks with his big and surprisingly warm hands. The soft touch made the younger boy calm down but it also forced him to look into Jason's eyes and that was actually a little uncomfortable. “You  _ do _ have your own way, Timbo. Don't tell me otherwise. The way you're solving problems 'n' shit? Fucking unique! The whole hackin'-thing and computer work? Really impressive! You're world's second greatest detective for a reason. Don't tell Bruce, but I think at an age of , I dunno, 25 maybe you'll outrank him!” 

“I know you're just saying that to cheer me up...”, Tim sighed, trying to look away but Jason stopped him from doing so. “Do you really see me as the kind of guy who would do anything so anyone else felt better?”, Jay asked and rose an eyebrow. 

“If it's about Dick, Roy , me – anyone close to you, really – yeah, I think you'd lie to comfort us”, Tim gave back with a smile. Jason always tried to seem unreachable but Tim knew he actually was really caring. He was probably more of a softy than Dick but Tim would never tell, since he preferred to have his stuff not broken. 

 

“Whatever”, Jason shook his head to change the subject again. “What I am trying to tell you is, that you don't have to  _ think  _ about trying a new way. You do so with every goddamn step you take.”

Tim gave half a smile. Even though he didn't agree with Jay on this one, the passionate way his older brother was talking still made him feel better. Even though it wasn't as humble and heroic as he should probably be, sometimes getting his ego patted a little was just what he needed.

 

“So, back to the fun side of life!”, Jason announced and let go of Tim's face. He could feel they weren't going to get anywhere from here right now so there was really no point in torturing his younger brother with more unpleasant talks.

“I'm quite sure I heard the ice cream truck's tune. Wanna go get some chocolate-flavored distraction?” 

“You just want something for your fries, don't you?”; Tim grinned back at his brother who was getting up. “Yup. Damn right. Stay right here, Timmy-boy, don't run off, I'll be right back!”, he said in quite a hurry before running away to the ice cream truck. “Timmy-Boy is a new one!”, Tim yelled after him with a laugh.

 

The rest of the day was quite peaceful. They had wasted their time in the park, Jason got Tim to try fries with chocolate ice cream – what turned out to be actually quite delicious, and hung their feet into the park's small lake. 

When it got dark and grew a little cold as well Jason got Tim a ride home on his motorcycle. Tim held onto him as they speeded through Gotham's streets and nuzzled his face into his brother's back. The smell of the leather jacket reminded him of Kon – just that Jay's was brown and a little more worn off.

After Jason dropped him off and Tim was walking down the path to the main entrance of the manor he realized that today's meet up with his brother had just the effect he wanted it to have. Disregarding their talk about Tim's struggle, he hadn't wasted a single thought on his scars today. It wasn't out of his system yet but at least he felt more relaxed and assured he would be able to handle the coming days without being crushed by his troubles.

Little did he know that trouble was awaiting him just as he opened the door.


	4. Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian might be the last person on earth Tim wanted to talk to right now, but who knows, it might help more than he expected...?

The exact moment when Tim entered his home, he was greeted by a wild battle roar shortly followed by a batarang hitting the wall just above his head. He flinched down and stared into the direction the flying weapon had come from. “ **What the hell, Damian?!** ”, Tim gasped and gave his brother an angry look “Welcome home, Drake”, the youngest Wayne replied with a bratty grin on his face. “Let's go down in the cave for a training session. You've got ten minutes to change. I'll be waiting”, he declared and was about to go back down when Tim grabbed his shoulder. “Not tonight. I don't feel like it. Sorry.”

Damian turned back to him with a sceptical face expression. “Is this about the thing you and Grayson talked about?” “He told you too?!”, Tim growled and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Did he sent you all a freaking newsletter or what?!” He moaned in annoyance and closed his eyes for a second. 

“Actually, I was just commenting on how you could've done a better job on the last mission and how I would've done it better - “ “So nothing new”, Tim muttered, trying not to show Damian that he was pouring salt into his wound. “- and Grayson told me to be nicer to you, since you were going through rough times right now. That's all he said, so don't make a fuss.”

Tim nodded, feeling actually a little guilty for accusing Dick to have blazoned out his sorrows. “Well, anyway, I'm still not up to train with you tonight.”, Tim sighed and made his way upstairs to his room. “Your decision but you've been missing out on a lot of training sessions lately and as much as I hate to be the one telling you – I don't – your Red Robin suit is starting to fit a little tight around the waist.” 

Tim turned around and stared and the boy. “Did you just call me fat? Like, really, Damian?”, he asked unbelievingly. The current Robin just shrug but did quite a bad job on hiding his grin. “You're not letting go of this, am I right?”, Tim sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and his index finger. “No. Ten minutes to change. See ya in the cave.”, Damian replied before running off. 

 

Tim  _ really  _ didn't feel like putting on his Red Robin suit so he just changed into some slim-fitting sweatpants and a loose Superman-Shirt he once stole from Kon. He wilfully wasted some time just to annoy Damian and entered the cave about 25 minutes after Damian. “Why are you always so slow?”, the boy growled but Tim didn't pay any attention to him as he tied back his hair and grabbed his Bo Staff before preparing himself for the fight. “Bring it on, little man”, he smiled cheerfully, knowing quite well how much this would bug Damian. The boy didn't hesitate for one second and immediately attacked Tim. As always he was too quick in his actions and didn't think his moves through. For sure, Damian was just as good with his head as with his fists and for any possible fight on the streets he would be a deadly threat to anyone. But to Tim, no. Tim has always been the smart one. He might not always be flawless when the team was on a mission but if there was a strategy needed he was the one to call up. Additionally he knew Damian's movement pattern quite well. The problem and probably only reason why he didn't won each and every fight against his younger brother was Damian's incredibly speed and perfect reflexes. He barely ever got distracted and let his instincts control his motions. Anyone else would die in no time, trying to fight like that but Damian, who grew up doing nothing but fighting, for him it was just as easy and instinctive as walking. 

 

After half and hour, both of them were panting and had a hard time just walking straight, they decided to take a short break. Damian complained and dropped some rather rude remarks but Tim knew he was tired as well and decided to be the mature one here. 

They sat on the floor, each one an bottle of water in their hand, and for once they didn't fight. They didn't really talk either but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Damian was absently looking at the bat-computer while pressing his right hand against the left side of his chest. Tim knew that way of holding oneself just too well and frowned at it. “Are you okay?”, he asked carefully, not wanting Damian to start bitching right away. The younger male seemed actually quite surprised by the caring tone of Tim's voice. “Uh, yeh. It's nothing, just a scratch.” “May I take a look?”, Tim went on and moved towards Damian. The kid rolled his eyes but pulled up his shirt. Tim twitched at the sight of the clumsily sewed cut. “Just a scratch, huh?”, the taller boy sighed as he reached out for the wound but stopped in the motion since it was probably better not to touch it. Damian just shrugged it off. “Worth it.”

Tim chuckled at his brother's priorities and leaned back again. “Okay, what did you do this time?” “As if I'd tell you, telltale”, Damian snorted but Tim just grinned and shook his head. “C'mon, I promise I won't tell Bruce”, he smiled and hold out his pinkie to set a seal on the promise. Damian ignored his brother's finger but nodded.

“Well, I've been out on my own. I've been after that guy for quite a while and finally wanted to put an end to it.” Tim's face darkened. “Please tell me you didn't-” “No, I didn't kill him.”, Damian interrupted him. “But someone had to stop his doing. He has abused his eleven years old son for years and somebody had to do something about it. Father told me not to take care of this stuff by myself but I found out about it, I kept track on what was going on, I protected the kid as much as possible. I wanted to do it by myself. My way.” “But-”, Tim bit his lip, hesitating, “- with Bruce by your side, you might wouldn't have been hurt.”

Damian rolled his eyes “You don't get it, Drake. I don't care about the injury. If I'd been worried about it I would've asked Alfred to take care of it but it's nothing serious. The point is that I handled the fight my own way. No one telling me how to attack, how to defend, not to show any mercy or to remember 'justice, not vengeance'. I'm tired of that.” Damian’s voice rose a little and as he realised he had lost his temper just a little he sighed and turned away.

Tim looked at Damian and couldn't help but smile to himself. No matter how much the boys pretended to hate each other, sometimes the third Robin had to admit how impressively determined Damian was. “As long as I get hurt doing my own thing, I couldn't care less. Actually I'm proud of these wounds.”, Damian finished his short speech with that usual half-pouting face of his. “But- just hypothetically – if you'd get hurt doing what someone told you to do, how would you feel about that?”, Tim asked carefully, trying to be not too obvious but was probably failing. “Tt. I  _ don't  _  fail on what someone tells me to do.-- At least not that much to have gotten a serious injury from it. But it would be a humiliation. I've done lots of stuff I'm not proud of but I wouldn't like to feel the marks of that on my very own skin.”

Tim felt like burning metal would fill his guts, hot and heavy. He held a little tighter onto his Bo Staff, as if it was the only thing preventing him from falling into a deep, dark abyss. He was used to being called useless by Damian. To the face. But like this, without the younger boy even knowing what they were talking about here, it was worse. As if it was more true like that. Not just to hurt Tim but the actual and unarguable way he was thinking. 

 

Tim had probably turned pale because Damian was giving him an uncommonly worried look. “Are you not feeling well?” “Huh?” Tim somehow dragged himself out of his paralysis and nodded. “Yeah, I'm alright. Told you it's been a long day”, he responded and got up. He was subconsciously a little surprised he didn't literally fall apart because that was exactly what his body felt like. “I'm going upstairs. Are you coming with me?” Damian nodded and followed Tim to the stairway. “I still gotta feed my pets before dinner.” “Can you please tell Alfred I won't attend dinner today?”, Tim asked his brother without even turning into his direction. “Sure”, Damian agreed without any mean remark. He hadn't paid too much attention when Grayson told him to be nicer but now that they had talked in person, Tim really didn't seem to be too well. 

Their ways parted when Damian left the house to take care of his pets and Tim got upstairs to his room. 

He closed the door, leaned against the cool wood and let himself sink down to the floor. The day was soon going to take his last breath, bringing up all it got one last time before fading away, and the setting sun painted Tim's room in the prettiest shades of red and orange. Tim looked at his arms. Where the moonlight made him look like he was out of ivory and quicksilver, the weak sun made his skin look like bronze and gold. 

Tim closed his eyes for a second, wrapped his Arms around himself and breathed. Just breathed for what felt like an hour. It was as if he had to focus and use all his strength to even do that. But at least it helped. With every breath he managed to take, the chains around his chest seemed to become a little lighter. 

Eventually he was able to open his eyes again. He crawled over to the window, he didn't dare to get up since he couldn't seem to trust his legs anymore, and closed the curtains. They wouldn't shut entirely and a thin streak of golden light crossed Tim's face and body.

Even though Tim could still see everything perfectly fine, the dimmed light seemed to match his mood better. Feeling protected by the soft darkness, Tim made the same mistake he'd made a few nights ago.

 

He took off his clothes and sat in front of his mirror. 


	5. Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When talking just doesn't help anymore there is nothing left but to talk a step back and try to make it yourself, so Tim thought. Little did he know help was just on the way.

He sat in front of the mirror for what felt like days but it probably hadn't been more than some minutes. He'd pulled his knees to his chest, his chin resting on them. 

He didn't feel sad any more, rather empty really. He'd cried a little, yes, but not for long. Now he was just looking at his body. Has he always looked this tired? Probably. He had never been good at sleeping enough. Maybe that was one of the reasons he failed at missions. Maybe the reason was his tendency to overthink and lose himself in his thoughts. Maybe he lacked the instincts that lead Damian. Maybe. 

Tim stared at him arms when it crossed his mind he might never find an answer or an solution. That idea bothered him more than his scars. If there was one thing Tim could not stand, it was not knowing the answer to a question. One reason why it's always been tough to work with a man who never tells you the whole truth, one reason he couldn't sleep sometimes. 

 

He tilted his head, now looking at his face. 

Looking for a solution in his own eyes. 

He couldn't seem to find any.

 

With a sigh he let go of his legs and lay down on his back. He looked at the streak of light on the ceiling, tracing it back to the drape-covered window. The sun had gone long ago, the light was no longer blood red but had turned into a vivid shade of deep blue. The moon seemed brighter than the sun these days. More comfortable and protective, less exposing.

Tim grabbed the oversized shirt and pulled it over, he didn't bother with the sweatpants since the black fabric reached the middle of his tights anyway. It was warm enough as well.

He felt confident enough to actually get up and walk over to the window instead of crawling over the floor. He reached for the curtains, pulling – tearing – them aside and quickly opening the window. Pleasingly cool wind toyed with his hair and his eyelids fluttered gently as he took a deep breath. 

He leaned out, placing his forearms on the window sill, looking over the manor's garden. Everything lay quiet in the gentle moonshine. The wind that had messed Tim's hair just seconds ago was now gone, dancing through the treetops, making them look like a chest that rose and lowers, softly breathing in the sleep.

 

Whenever Tim was feeling down, he had to remind himself the rest of the world wasn't falling apart just because he was facing some self-centred problems. Everything else was still okay, even when he wasn't. It didn't matter. Remembering that filled his body with a relieving sadness.

He took another deep breath, closed his eyes. It didn't matter. He was doing his job after all and some scars wouldn't stop him from keeping on doing so. People needed Red Robin – a better version of him maybe but still, what he was doing was better than just letting it all go – and he needed Red Robin as well. 

It was not something he could simply let go off. No matter how often he would get hurt, how badly, how ugly the scars might be, he wouldn't stop doing his best. Even if his best wasn't as good as he wanted it to be.

Maybe he had just been too light-hearted until now. Maybe he had thought of himself as too good to make mistakes. Maybe he couldn't accept his own flaws, the fact that he wasn't the best leader, best fighter, best hero.

Suddenly the scars appeared to be a reminder to stay humble – carved into his skin to make sure he wouldn't forget. 

_Don't rely on your plans_ , hummed the curved one on his back from when he nearly fell for the Riddler's trap. 

_Don't rely on_ _your intelligence_ , laughed the one in his neck, making sure he wouldn't forget the Joker was even smarter than him.

_ Don't trust what you see and feel _ , yelled the scar right beneath the left collarbone. He didn't even remembered how he got this one, his mind had been obscured by Scarecrow' gas.

_ Never hesitate, not one single bit _ , purred the one at the inside of his thigh from when he was too slow and cut himself on the glass of a broken window the night he first had to deal with Selina and wasted time watching her light-footed movements.

_ Don't rely too much on what you think to know. Don't trust yourself too much. Don't get vincible by feeling too invincible.  _

Tim shook his head, trying to get the voices out of his head. “I know. I know-!”, he mumbled under his breath and sighed. “I know. Leave me alone.”

He let his eyes wander over the garden again, hoping the sight of it would once again be able to lessen the heavy waves of thoughts crashing inside of his mind.

 

The trees didn't seem to sleep any longer. The wind has gotten a little stronger and the treetops were bowing down to it, excepting their place underneath the upcoming storm. Like Tim, they weren't scared by that but accepting that they couldn't be as strong as the whole world around them. Sometimes there was nothing left but to bow down. That didn't mean a tree was less mighty and beautiful and it didn't make Tim less of a hero to do so. 

Slowly Tim got lost in his thought over the sight of the garden, the living nature beneath him. A tiny smile crept onto Tim's face – not happy, but fine with himself, more or less at least.

 

The moon made the whole park shine in blue and silver, the water of the fountain sparkling beautifully and the wind-moved grass shimmering like silk.

Tim's eyes slowly travelled up to the skying, searching for the source of the tenderly dim light, when something hit his eye that seemed a lot like the long hoped for comfort. 

“Hey..! What're you doing here?”, Tim smiled, tilting his head and leaning it on his hand. “Told you, I could hear you from anywhere”, Kon replied with that cute smirk he seemed to give no one but Tim. “Um, not that I'm listening to every word you say – I'm not a creep, I promise – but an 'I know, leave me alone' in the middle of the night kind of made me worry. So here I am.”

 

The look in Tim's eyes grew gentle and he couldn't help but feel touched. Kon-El wasn't known to be an extremely caring person, he often fought with the other members of the Young Justice, had trouble making new friends but it somehow was easy between the two of them. Tim felt safe around Kon, even though most people told him to stay cautious. And he knew Kon felt like he could be himself around Tim. Tim was not judging him, he didn't have to proof anything and Tim could let go of all that made him worry. 

They made quite a match, Tim had noticed that a while ago. They made a great team, they were good for each other. This was more than friendship, more than what he shared with Wally or Cassie. But Tim would never actually voice that, not risking their well-going relationship just because he wanted more. It was fine like that too, right?

 

Red Robin stepped back a little so Kon could fly in through the open window and land right in front of Tim's feet. 

“Are you alright?” There was still a smile on Kon's face but the trouble in this eyes was more real. “Yeah, sure!”, Tim replied a little too quick and hectically grabbed his sweatpants. “Do you want something to drink? We can make ourselves some hot chocolate, we got mini-marshmallows”, he babbled while getting in his pants. Kon shrugged, searching in Tim's face for an honest answer to his question.

Tim barely dared looking Kon in the eye on their way downstairs to the kitchen. He had found the solution to his struggle and didn't want to bother any more people with his scarred body and mind. 

Kon watched Tim making the hot chocolate but stopped him as he placed the mugs on the kitchen island, putting his hand on Tim's. Tim finally looked up at Kon's eyes and the deep worry he found in them nearly broke his heart.

 

“Are you  _ really  _ alright, Tim?”


	6. Kon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a friend by your side, a problem that seemed unsolvable at first can become nothing but a small stumble on the right way. With Kon close to him, Tim felt stronger than ever before.

Kon and Tim had developed the habit of sitting next to each other rather than face to face a while ago. They preferred being close to the other one, feeling his body heat, their shoulder brushing from time to time. 

It was neither uncomfortable or awkward for the two boys to hold hands while Tim told Kon about all that happened the past days. He told him about his dream, told him about his walk with Dick and how his older brother probably wouldn't ever understand Tim completely, no matter how hard he tried. He told Kon about his day with Jason, how he just tried to forget about his scars and what they meant and how that didn't work for longer than a day. He told him about training with Damian and the truest words he had ever heard from him, painfully true.

Then he told him about tonight, about how he finally understood the use of the scars. Finally understood, they were supposed to remind him, he was not as great as he probably thought. 

 

With every word Tim said, Kon's frown grew bigger. He didn't interrupt him but it was obvious he wasn't happy with what Tim was telling him neither. When the third Robin had finished his story, Kon stayed quiet for a little longer, thinking about what to say. Tim gave him the time. Silence wasn't a bad thing with the two of them. There had been days when they spent hours and hours not saying a word but just enjoying each other’s presence.

 

After a while Kon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tim, I don't want to sound rude and I surely do not want to hurt you but... that's probably the dumbest thing I've ever heard from you.”

Tim felt like someone had just punched him in the guts. He knew his concern wasn't just as bad but being called dumb for worrying really hurt. Kon immediately noticed the change in Tim's face and rose his hands in defence. “Not that it's stupid you're thinking about this, I mean... I-I do see your problem but-”, he took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts, getting the words straight so he wouldn't hurt Tim again, “- but I think it's wrong to say those scars prove you're  _ less good  _  as a hero. I mean, do you even remember how you got them? Because  _ I  _  think they show the exact opposite.”

Tim lowered his eyebrows, giving Kon a half testing half confused look. “Of course I remember. And so should you, I mean, you've usually been there as well. Like the time this maniac had this fake bomb? And I fell? Because he nearly saw me?”

“See? You're not remembering right!”, Kon exclaimed. “That guy wasn't about to see you. He was about to see  _ Megan _ ! You made a sound to distract him!” Tim shrugged. “Still, I was planing to hide in time and failed, tripped.” “Still, you saved her butt.”, Kon contradicted. “You've put yourself in danger, so she would be fine. To  _ me _ that doesn't make you a less amazing hero.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Well, maybe. But that's not the only scar I've got, you know.”, he tried to argue. He knew Kon was just trying to make him feel better but instead of helping Tim felt like he was ripping his newly gained solution from his hands. Tim rather be just half a hero than be clueless about the meaning of scars again.

“Fine, give me any example.”, Kon smiled calmly. “I'm not gonna fight you on this, Kon”, Tim replied and wrapped his arms around his chest. “C-Can't we just leave it alone? Please..?”, he lowered his head and avoided his friend's look. Kon tilted his head, frowning worriedly. He hesitated for a moment but then carefully put his hand on Tim's shoulder. “I don't want to do anything that makes you feel bad but... I don't want to leave you thinking you're less of a hero because of your scars. To me, they make you even more of a hero.”

Tim snorted and rested his head on his arms. “I don't know, Kon... I mean, thank you, but I'm not so sure about that.”, he sighed and closed his eyes. The touch of Kon's hand made him feel better. A little, at least.

“But I know”, Kon replied, absolutely serious, and gently lifted Tim's chin. The intimate touch made Tim blush and he got a little lost in Kon's blue eyes. The shorter boy caught himself getting lost in them but didn't fight the numb, warm feeling as he zoned out for a moment. He was so deeply tangled by his own thoughts, it took him full three seconds to react when Kon said: ”I think there is more about it than just some badly healed wounds, right?” His voice was so soft and gentle, Tim felt the strong need to wrap himself in it and take a long, long nap. His head felt heavier than usual when Tim nodded. “I guess... Who knows..”, he sighed. “I usually don't feel the same as... other people... and I usually have other concerns but-”, Kon rubbed his neck and smiled shyly. “There is a thing I do when I don't feel good. It might help you too.” “Let's give it a shot then”, Tim replied and got up. He didn't really care what it was or whether it would help. As long as he was allowed to spend time around Kon, it would be fine.

 

Kon took him by the hand and lead him out into the yard. Tim had rolled his eyes at him when the Superboy made him put on a jacket, but he wouldn't leave the house until Tim was warm and cosy. 

Now they were standing in the middle of the garden, far enough from the house. “So, what now?”, Tim asked, looking around. Kon just smiled and pulled his friend into his arms, too fast for Tim to protest or pull back even if he had wanted to. “Hold on tight, boy wonder.”, Kon whispered and sent a shiver down Tim's spine. With that, the taller boy pushed himself off the ground and they were shooting up into the night sky. 

Tim had always enjoyed flying with Kon, even though his friend barely ever allowed it, but today it felt even better – freeing somehow. Tim dug his nails into Kon's shirt, not because he was scared he might drop him – Kon was holding him really tight and Tim loved every second of it – but because he had to feel him being close.

They were flying over the city for what felt like hours and Tim had to admit, he had never felt so light before. When Kon sat them down on the rooftop of some building, Tim hadn't paid any attention on where exactly they were, he felt alive and stronger than before.

 

The boys sat on the edge of the building, looking over the city and Tim might or might not leaned his head against Kon's shoulder. “It's all just so much sometimes, you know?”, he sighed. Kon somehow got him to talk about his real worries, the ones he tried to cover with his irrational struggle with his scars. “I mean, technically I know, I'm not bad at what I do but sometimes it's hard to remind myself, do you know what I mean? I might not suck but in comparison to my brothers, I feel... ordinary. Which is worse, I think. A Robin needs to be remarkable!” “You  _ are _ remarkable,Tim”, Kon mumbled, shaking his head. “I know, that's what people say. And I believe they actually mean it. And on my good days I think so too. I do have some skills none of them have achieved, the hacking stuff for example. I know that! But...-” “But sometimes you feel like what you do is not enough. I get that... Every wrong move seems to take you five steps back where a right one brings you only one step closer to the place you wanna see yourself in.” Tim nodded and looked up at Kon. “Yeah... It's, like, in my head I know no one is mad at me for making minor mistakes but in my heart I feel like I'm disappointing everyone. Because, you know, the Teen Titans and the Young Justice both were founded by Dick and he always seems to have it all together, he is more of a leader than I am. And Bruce- he used to have Robins like Dick and Jason. Fearless, quick in decisions, sure they had their own head but I think that's a good thing, even though Bruce always told us to follow his plans. I've never been like that. When I came to Bruce I wasn't a fighter. I needed the most training... I mean, now I know it was because of what happened to Jason but back then? I always thought I wasn't as good as him or Dick. I've been the smart kid around, the one to make the plans, follow them step by step, had plan B and C if anything went wrong and in the end I was usually successful but I've always had a different way to handle stuff than the other Robins did. Sometimes I wondered if Bruce liked their way better.”

Kon sighed and put his arms around Tim. “I think you only think that way because they used to be Robin before you were. It's hard to not compare oneself with anyone who was in the same place before. But take it from me – I got to know all of you around the same time and there is nothing Jason or Dick or Damian can do that you can't. You're just as good as them, if not better. Having an own way of handling things is not a bad thing. In fact, I think it's the best thing you can do. Why would you want to be an okay copy of Dick or whoever when you can be an incredible original of yourself?” Tim couldn't help but grin. “You stole that one from Clark, didn't you?” Kon blushed a little and laughed. “Yeah, you got me. He always says  _ 'Be the best version of yourself' _ .” Kon's imitation of Clark's voice made Tim laugh so hard he leaned forward and swung his legs back and forth. The blush on Kon's cheeks grew a little stronger and he couldn't help but smile lovingly. 

When Tim got himself together again, he placed his head back on Kon's shoulder. “Thank you...” “For what?”, the boy chuckled as he once more wrapped his arms around Tim. “You know, for taking me out tonight, talking to me... It's not the first time I had a phase like that, feeling down and useless but I never actually spoke it out. Thank you for being here...” “Always.”, Kon smiled and pressed a kiss into Tim's hair. 

 

The two boys spent the rest of their night on that rooftop. Talking about anything that came to their mind. About  insecurities and hopes, plans, things they did with their families, who was more unbearable at his worst days, Jon or Damian.

Tim felt tired in the best way possible as they turned to the horizon in the early morning hours, watching the sun rise and colour the whole city in a warm yellow. For this very moment everything, even a place like Gotham, felt peaceful. The soft light seemed to wash the fear out of the streets and off Tim's skin and the cool air refilling his lungs felt fresher than usual. He got up and stretched, felt like chains fell off, before he turned to Kon. “Let's go home, shall we?”, Tim smiled before letting himself fall over the edge of the building, his arms spread out.

Kon shook his head and grinned before shooting after him. 

With Kon's arms around his waist and his own around Kon's neck Tim never felt more safe.

  
He was certain, this wouldn't be the last time he had to face insecurities and struggles but something about Kon's body being so close to his told him it would be easier to deal with them as long as he had someone to catch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, like I said, this is my first Fanfic. I hope it was remotely enjoyable to you, people.
> 
> However, I had some problems editing and I'm not used to this website yet, I hope the next fic will be less of a mess.
> 
> Please please please, give me feedback and tell me what you think so I can impove!  
> Thank you so so much for reading this whole thing!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Fanfiction ever so people don't go to hard on me, please.
> 
> Also, I had the impression that their aren't enough Gen Fics so I decided to write one about Tim and the insecurities he probably has to face.  
> Thank you for reading, it means a lot to me, really.


End file.
